


Put Me In a Movie

by Leryline



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Frottage, Hands, M/M, NSFW, cinema kisses, idk what to tag this, kawaushi, they almost get off in a bathroom?, ushikawa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leryline/pseuds/Leryline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1: A cinematic dusk, a touch behind the ear. Kawanishi Taichi reminds Ushijima of a wisteria tree.</p><p>2: Making out with his captain in a dark cinema was never something Kawanishi Taichi had counted on happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for alice
> 
> prompt: "I accidentally grabbed your hand while searching for something else."

one

* * *

 

It was a late Friday afternoon - late enough that the light slanting through the barred windows of the gym was more red than white, and late enough that all the nasturtiums planted in rows outside had turned their faces from the sun.

Practice had just come to a close with the curt blow of the coach’s whistle, the team dispersing to clean the gym before changing and heading home. Tendou and Semi - as they always did - elected to take care of the net. The others cleaned the polished court surface, Ushijima and Kawanishi collecting discarded volleyballs and returning them to the bins.

In his first year of high school, Kawanishi Taichi discovered that he could hold eight volleyballs at one time, six if he wanted to be able to see where he was going, and four if he didn’t want Ushijima to come and take two away from him. The captain never mentioned why he took two of them. Kawanishi never asked. His eyes lingered a little on the curve of Ushijima’s bent back whenever he picked up a ball, glancing away immediately when his captain stood up again. Ushijima, Kawanishi knew, could land a ball in the bin from the other end of the court. He’d seen him do it, when he thought he was alone. He never did it since then, though.

“Allow me,” Ushijima murmured when Kawanishi piled six balls into his arms. He took two, and Kawanishi looked from his captain’s cutting eyes back to the frayed lip of the volleyball bin. It was standard protocol.

Ushijima dropped his volleyballs into the bin at the same time Kawanishi did. The weave of the balls was something familiar to both of them; there was absolutely no mistaking the press of Ushijima’s fingers against Kawanishi’s palm. Ushijima looked up at him, and if he was thinking anything, his expression didn’t betray him. Kawanishi’s heart hammered in his throat, and it wouldn’t calm down, no matter how many times he tried to swallow it. Ushijima had blinked once, twice, and then the steady, warm weight of his hand had disappeared, and Kawanishi’s eyes had left his. Standard protocol.

“Ushijima-san,” Kawanishi called. His voice wavered dangerously, threatening almost to break, but he kept it under control. The words wrestled their way from his throat before he could stop them. Ushijima his attention roused by the call of his name, turned and fixed Kawanishi with his steady gaze. Kawanishi licked his lips a little nervously. “Would… you like to walk home with me? I mean - to the station.”

He half expected Ushijima to say no. And yet - Ushijima glanced down at his wristwatch, frowned a little, and shrugged. “I suppose so.”

Kawanishi tried not to look at Ushijima in the changing room. He changed facing the lockers, taking care to fiddle around with his bag until Ushijima exited the shower before going in himself. By the time he’d showered and changed into his uniform, Ushijima was already waiting outside the gym, his eyes cast golden in the fading light. Ushijima looked at him, blinking placidly, and for a moment he didn’t move at all. Kawanishi’s eyes followed the line of Ushijima’s nose, the sharp curve of his lips, the solid, concrete angle of his jaw -

And then the spell was broken, suddenly, when Ushijima swung away from him and began down the avenue towards the school gates. Kawanishi almost had to jog to keep up with his stride; there wasn’t any great difference in height between them, but Ushijima’s legs were powerful, and he moved fast. Of course, Kawanishi was used to this kind of thing - Ushijima never hesitated to outdo them in training exercises, _especially_ when it came to runs. He never bothered to slow down, or to wait.

“Ushijima-san!” Kawanishi called out - again, he hadn’t meant to. The words had come unbidden, like some kind of awful hiccup. Ushijima had outpaced him by a number of meters, and had already made to turn out of the gate and onto the lane that lead to the train station nearby. At the sound of his voice, Ushijima slowed. It was almost instinctive.

Kawanishi - finally - fell into step beside him. He stopped beside the captain, shifting his face up a little to look at him. Ushijima had stopped walking, and was looking directly at Kawanishi, who had opened his mouth as though to speak. But the words were not coming.

The lane was lined with wisterias, their boughs already heavy with gentle, drooping fronds. It shaded them both, casting a strange, blue-ish glow over the shell of Ushijima’s ear, the tips of Kawanishi’s hair. The light - which had been fiery and angry - had dissipated into the cool lilac dusk, and a shiver walked its way right up the back of Kawanishi’s neck. Something shifted; a breeze, low and cool, licked about their ankles and sent the wisterias rustling above them.

It felt like an eternity, but they couldn’t have been standing there for more than a few moments, as long as those moments may have been.

“Taichi.” ‘Ta-i-chi’. His given name seemed to flow even more beautifully on the baritone wave of Ushijima’s voice. Kawanishi felt something tickle his ear, and he reached up to fix his hair - he reached up the same moment as Ushijima’s hand rose, the tip of his finger tickling against the shell of Kawanishi’s ear as the rest of his fingers slid almost perfectly into the blocker’s. They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, before Ushijima withdrew his hand and held out a wisteria blossom.

Kawanishi took it, fingers burning, his face surely matching. He had expected to take the flower and shove it in his pocket and spend the rest of the journey in silence; things would have taken that route, perhaps, if Ushijima had let go of his fingers. As it happened, however, he didn’t.

Ushijima looked down at Kawanishi’s fingers for a few moments. He watched the dusk light grace the half-moon nails and the delicate knuckles. _Blocker fingers._ They were so different from his own.

Then he drew Kawanishi’s fingers to his lips and kissed them.

Kawanishi’s heart stopped.

Then Ushijima dropped Kawanishi’s hand, reached up to pick his own flower, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger, and looked over his shoulder at a shell-shocked Kawanishi.

“Are you coming?” 

 


	2. Chapter 2

two

* * *

 

“That one!” Tendou’s long, bony finger pointed directly at one of the most garish horror film posters Kawanishi had ever seen. He scoffed, rolling his eyes and watching as the first and second years flinched in reaction.

“No…” Shirabu said uncertainly. “I don’t think that one would be a good choice… besides, some of us aren’t even old enough to get into a movie like that.”

Tendou stuck his tongue between his teeth. “Wakatoshi will see it with me. Won’t you, Wakatoshi?” He turned his big, pleading eyes to Ushijima, who stood stoically looking up at the ‘now showing’ board, a small crinkle between his brows.

“No,” Ushijima replied flatly. “I am not watching that. Horror films are implausible.”

Tendou whined in response, folding his arms dejectedly. Kawanishi heard Semi and Reon stifle their laughter behind him.

It had all been Tendou’s idea in the first place, really. If Tendou was good at one thing, it was organising team outings under the guise of ‘team building exercises’. Kawanishi couldn’t see exactly how going to see a movie was a team building exercise, but Ushijima seemed to fall for it every time. Not that he was complaining, of course - he knew that a critical part of the team dynamic was getting to know each other… even if that meant finding out what movies everyone was partial to.

In the end - after half an hour of debating - they had reached a majority vote of a recently released drama film. Goshiki feigned indifference, but everybody knew he revered the leading actress, and Tendou really did try to conceal his excitement as well (even if it didn’t really work). Kawanishi didn’t really mind either way, and neither did the other third years - Ushijima appeared to care the least. He didn’t make a habit of watching movies, he said. He reserved himself for nature documentaries. Those, he insisted, were infinitely more interesting. That had earned another long groan from Tendou, and more stifled laughter.

The cinema was half-full. Their entourage sat near the back; there was a group of first years from a girls’ academy sat near the front, giggling and twittering like birds on a line, and there was what appeared to be a group of housewives, and a few young couples, as well as elderly ones. Tendou sat himself squarely between Semi and Kawanishi, Reon sitting on Semi’s other side; the first and second years sat in the row before them, leaving Ushijima to ease himself into the seat beside Kawanishi.

It was amusing to see Ushijima try and fold his body into the seat, to see how his legs had little to no room. Tendou took charge of distributing the snacks and the drinks.

“Don’t even think about eating everything before the movie starts,” Semi snapped, slapping Tendou’s hand away from the popcorn bucket. “I know what you’re like. You inhale this stuff.”

“Mean! Mean. I’m being bullied. Reon, control him.”

Reon snorted with laughter, wisely choosing to mind his own business.

Semi and Tendou’s bickering died down to whispers when the cinema darkened. Kawanishi tried to convince himself that he _hadn’t_ been looking at Ushijima out of the corner of his eye; he _certainly_ hadn’t been admiring the strong line of his neck or the slope of his shoulder, or just how dark his hair looked under the lights, or how the back of his hand was laced with veins. Or how broad his fingers were. Absolutely not.

He found himself grateful for the darkness. Even so, it pained him - he couldn’t see Ushijima beside him, but he could _feel_ him there. He could feel the warmth of him, hear each time he shifted. His elbow knocked against Kawanishi’s every now and again and set the blocker’s heart into a frenzy he didn’t understand. He just prayed Ushijima couldn’t hear how hard his heart was hammering.

The movie was largely uninteresting, at least to Kawanishi. He could see the younger players’ heads bending and bobbing as they whispered to each other, and even the other third years seemed vaguely riveted. But not Kawanishi. He couldn’t concentrate on the screen, not when he could smell Ushijima’s jacket, all coarse soap and pine needles and sandalwood. He shifted in his seat a little bit, trying to make himself more comfortable. He reached out for the arm rest separating his and Ushijima’s seats, but instead of finding the weave of the upholstery, he found the rough, warm skin of Ushijima’s wrist.

He paused. Kawanishi knew he shouldn’t taken his hand back. And yet there was something stopping him - perhaps it was because Ushijima didn’t react at all. Or perhaps it was interest, because the captain’s hand was so different to his own: Ushijima’s fingers were broad where Kawanishi’s were slender, they were rough where Kawanishi’s were smooth. He ran his thumb over the back of Ushijima’s hand, his heart galloping at the back of his tongue. He felt short of breath, like he was doing something risky - something, at least, he shouldn’t have been doing. And surely exploring his volleyball captain’s hand in a dark cinema was questionable, at best. But for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

Suddenly, though, reason returned to him, and his heart sank to shrivel between his ribs. He pulled his hand back, fire shooting up his arm, but before he could snatch his hand away Ushijima’s palm flipped upwards and caught Kawanishi’s wrist in a firm, unrelenting grasp. His gaze snapped to the ace’s face, and even through the darkness he could see him looking right at him. The light of the screen glanced off the surface of his eyes, light refracted in a way that was almost eerie. Even so, something inside Kawanishi jumped and clenched in a way that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Kawanishi’s lips parted instinctively, maybe to form a questioning ‘Ushijima-san?’, but no sound came. Ushijima’s thumb pressed against the vein running up the inside of his wrist, his fingers dipping between Kawanishi’s in a way that was almost obscene; Kawanishi suddenly found himself unable to breathe.

And then Ushijima pulled, drawing Kawanishi slowly over the division between their seats, and he moved too, so their bodies curled towards each other like planets in orbit right until their lips met in a soft, open-mouthed kiss shrouded by the safe darkness of the cinema. Kawanishi hadn’t had time to lick his lips first, even, but he found that Ushijima’s lips were very soft - surprisingly so - and almost endearingly clumsy. The scent of soap and sandalwood was stronger, accented by the musk of Ushijima’s skin; Kawanishi’s nose pressed to the hollow of the captain’s cheek and when they parted he felt the warm rush of breath against his lips.

The wind was knocked clean from his lungs, his mouth opening in a gasp, the very tip of his tongue flicking against Ushijima’s lower lip.

“Kawanishi…” the name rolled off Ushijima’s tongue like a rumble of thunder. ‘Ka-wa-ni-shi’ - each syllable fit so perfectly against his lips. It made Kawanishi shiver and their lips met again, this time a little more open and a few degrees less innocent. Kawanishi’s fingers were splayed open against the seat with Ushijima’s own fingers thrust between them, and there was something vaguely erotic about it all; the movement of Ushijima’s fingers between his made his thighs clench every now and again, the press of Ushijima’s thumb against his vein - he made the mistake of imagining that same thumb pressed against his jugular, broad hand curled around his throat in a more-than-compromising position, pressed up against a locker, maybe, or against a wall -

Kawanishi let out a half-sigh half-moan into Ushijima’s mouth and shifted a little in his seat. His free hand found Ushijima’s neck, his jaw, his hair - Kawanishi was struck by the sudden desire to touch him everywhere, all at once. To peel off Ushijima’s clothing layer by layer and reveal each muscle, each line of sinew and dark skin. To touch all of it, to see how it moved and how it writhed. To press his tongue to it. To mark it.

Sitting in the cinema with Ushijima’s tongue pressed against his teeth made Kawanishi think of all kinds of awful things. Like how it would feel to be pinned to the ground with his captain’s cock fucking him into jelly. How deep Ushijima could reach inside him. It made him think of how deep a moan Ushijima could produce, or what kind of desperate reactions he could elicit from Kawanishi. What would it feel like to ride him? To feel those strong, muscular thighs under his hands? When Ushijima’s other hand found Kawanishi’s thigh, the blocker discovered himself unable to think of anything at all.

“Two minutes,” Ushijima mumbled against his lips.

And then he was gone.

Kawanishi sat suddenly alone and stunned like a dead fish. _Two minutes._ Two minutes for what? Did Ushijima have to go rub one out? Usually, something like that would have made Kawanishi laugh. But the thought of Ushijima cumming with Kawanishi’s name on his lips was not something he found amusing.

And then he realised.

Two minutes later, Ushijima still hadn’t returned. Silently, Kawanishi rose from his seat and made his way out of the darkened cinema and back into the lobby. The brightness disoriented him for a few moments, but he managed to find his way to the bathrooms sooner or later. When he entered them, they were empty.

Suddenly a stall swung open to his left and a hand grasped him by his collar, dragging him in. The door swung shut and locked and before he knew it both of his hands were pinned above his head and Ushijima’s eyes were more intense than he’d ever seen them before - except perhaps in the middle of a match. His pupils were blown and his eyes looked black; had Kawanishi’s hands been free he would’ve fisted them in the front of his captain’s shirt and dragged him down to kiss him with even more tongue and teeth than before. But instead Ushijima just looked at him.

Kawanishi would never admit that he found the scrutiny of Ushijima’s eyes arousing. But when Ushijima’s knee found its way between Kawanishi’s thighs he couldn’t conceal the way his hips rolled down against it; when Ushijima released his hands he immediately used them to pull him in closer so he could kiss him harder and deeper. His hands slipped greedily beneath Ushijima’s shirt, feeling the hard muscles of his abdomen, and when he raked his nails over Ushijima’s abs he was rewarded with a deep, soft moan.

Of course they didn’t fuck there. Ushijima merely bullied open Kawanishi’s thighs and pressed a hand between them until Kawanishi came in his palm; he’d drawn his fingers back to his lips, then, making Kawanishi suck them clean one by one. Having Ushijima’s broad fingers in his mouth and pressing against his tongue almost drove him insane. They returned to the cinema, though this time Kawanishi’s hold on Ushijima’s hand was anything but accidental.

They all parted at the station - all except Ushijima and Kawanishi, who caught the same connection. The train was crowded and Kawanishi found Ushijima’s body pressed up against his back, the ace’s powerful hips rocking against his. It was the longest train journey of Kawanishi’s life.

As soon as they arrived back at Ushijima’s house their clothes began to come off. Where Kawanishi had wanted to touch he found himself being touched, Ushijima’s face creased in a frown borne of intensity rather than stress. He lay Kawanishi out on the floor of the living room - for they couldn’t make it any further than that - and pressed his lips and his tongue to each inch of his skin, lathing kisses and dark hickeys that stand out beautiful against the milky skin of Kawanishi’s throat.

He felt small in Ushijima’s hands. Under his body he felt even smaller, almost slight in comparison, even though he was almost as tall as his captain - Ushijima’s tongue dipped against his own and his lips swallowed each keening moan and gasp of breath as the two became one and Kawanishi felt himself filled to the back teeth with Ushijima’s cock. It was bigger than he’d dared to imagine and appeared to be shaped perfectly to fit inside him, stimulating him until he lay there shivering like an open nerve. Ushijima kissed him as often as he could, confessing more than once that he couldn’t get enough of it.

And afterwards, when Kawanishi had left his fair share of deep scratches over Ushijima’s back, the tingle of Ushijima’s weight still left against his skin; when the ace held Kawanishi against his chest and kissed his hair in a rare show of affection that Kawanishi had never witnessed before, he knew that the next time he grabbed Ushijima’s hand while in search of something else, it was definitely not going to be an accident.


End file.
